


Double-Date

by Kevin_Mask (Nikolai_Knight)



Category: Kinnikuman Nisei | Ultimate Muscle
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Competition, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Rivalry, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Kevin_Mask
Summary: Mantaro agrees to a double-date.He soon realises the depths of his competitive nature, as he tries to out-romance Kevin.





	Double-Date

Jacqueline tugged at his wrist.

The smile pulled at her eyes, adding a shimmer to green irises. A lock of red hair caught in the wind, as it blew about her face and cast frantic shadows, and – with a giggle – Jacqueline brushed it back with manicured fingers. A blush crossed over her cheeks, both from wind and emotion. He blushed back. Time stopped between them, while her hand slid from his wrist, and soon their fingers entwined and palms pressed to one another. It was a warm touch.

He licked at his lips and leaned forward. The lights from the restaurant caught over the nape of her neck and the line of her cleavage, emphasising her feature and complementing the shadows, and she was a work of art within the bustle of urbanity.  A flutter of her skirts sent them brushing against his legs, while he thought to nights spend walking in the park . . . hand in hand, arms entangled, a cheek against his shoulder . . . quiet intimacy. A shuddered sigh escaped his lips, as he raised her hand and kissed the soft skin.

A low moan followed, as Jacqueline came flush against him. A pair of long arms were thrown about his shoulders, while she tilted back her head with a smirk, and his hands rested on her hips with a gentle – yet firm – hold. Jacqueline pressed a quick and chaste kiss to his lips, before sliding away and pulling him towards the door. He followed her towards the restaurant doors. The standard display outside was filled with models of food.

“Do we – er – you know . . . _have_ to go inside?”

Mantaro jerked his head towards the sign. The words ‘takeaway available’ stood bolded in red, with a separate set of prices adjacent. A pout swept over Jacqueline, as she brought his hand to her lips and kissed at each and every digit, and the puppy-dog expression – along with the subtle flirtations – may have worked at any other time. He pouted back and pointed through the restaurant windows. A lone couple sat at a far table, both sat side-by-side.

“I just don’t get why we have to see _him_ ,” said Mantaro.

“Hey, he might be every girl’s knight in shining armour,” teased Jacqueline, “but he’s also the Muscle League’s lone wolf. He doesn’t have many friends, and – well – Warsman was starting to worry about him . . . I thought it’d be nice for us to get together, as you’re in a relationship and he’s in a relationship, you know? You can bond, Manta!”

“You know who else is in a relationship? All of Warsman’s friends.”

“Yeah, but they’re all so _old_. Kevin wouldn’t want that.”

“Look, you know there’s a reason he has no friends, right? We made a total effort after the Demon Seed, but he only ever turns up for training! He won’t come to karaoke, or group meals, or to arcades . . . it’s like – it’s like he thinks we’re beneath him or something.”

Mantaro folded his arms. He pouted and looked down, but his gaze fell through the windows. Kevin sat in casual attire, with his leather coat thrown over his chair, and a bright blue t-shirt matching his iron mask to perfection, as it caught the harsh lights from the interior. He rested an arm on the back of their chairs, where it rested behind Warsman. They sat close. Warsman crossed his arms and legs, but would intermittently gesticulate wildly in moments where Kevin was seemingly silent, and their eyes never once left one another. They were happy.

“They wouldn’t even notice if we didn’t show up,” said Mantaro. “I knew there was something between them during the preliminaries, and Warsman always watched over him, even during the Demon Seed attack. He has everything he needs right there, doesn’t he? I know I love my friends and all, but I’m never happiest than when I’m with you.”

“That’d be almost sweet, if you weren’t trying to get out of a date.” Jacqueline rolled her eyes and nudged him in the side. “Look, Robin disowned him once he found out about their relationship, which wasn’t easy when Kevin already had issues. Can we just -?”

“He’s so arrogant, though! He never listens to anyone.”

“Neither do you,” said Jacqueline.

“He always thinks he’s right and is _way_ stubborn.”

“Sounds just like you, too.”

“And he’s always so antagonistic!”

Jacqueline raised an eyebrow. He blushed and shoved his hands into his pockets, before she shook her head and flicked at his forehead with considerable force, and – as he yelped out an ‘ouch’ – she pushed open the restaurant door, which let out a burst of warmth. Jacqueline darted inside, where she kicked off her shoes and hummed a low tune. He remained firmly outside, with feet kicking at the ground, until a long groan fell from her lips and her hands shot out to drag him inside. Mantaro stumbled, while Jacqueline waited with a smirk.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words quickly died in his mouth. A soft pair of lips came to brush against his cheek, his jaw, his neck . . . a trail of lipstick ready to be wiped away, but marking him as a taken man . . . he blushed as she pulled back. He quickly pulled off his shoes and coat, before he shoved them onto the shelf. Jacqueline was already darting through the tables towards Kevin. Mantaro cursed and chased after her with a half-smile.

“Hurry up, Manta,” chirped Jacqueline. “We’re late!”

Warsman sat silent. He ran his eyes over them, as they slid into their seats, and Jacqueline – opposite him with a warm smile – forced a handshake and made awkward small-talk . . . _Kevin throwing blood into her face, Warsman insulting her with cruelty . . ._ Mantaro fisted his hands until knuckles turned white. The quickening of his heart echoed in his ears, as Warsman mimicked her body language and posture. A soft chuckle rumbled out from behind the organic part of his facial mask. He seemed at ease. There was a twinkle to his red eyes.

“So,” muttered Mantaro. “We’re just forgetting all the old animosity?”

Kevin was impossible to read. A cold silence fell between them. Kevin flexed his fingers and cocked his head to the side, as his gaze locked on Mantaro, who pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in response. The small talk fell flat beside them, even as Jacqueline buried her face into her hand with a sigh. Warsman leaned back, with arms folded and legs crossed, while he stared off across the restaurant to an empty dance platform. A couple lurked on the outside, where they giggled and fawned over one another. Kevin shrugged and said:

“Among adults, we tend to aim for civility.”

“I just don’t get it.” Mantaro shrugged with a blush. “Warsman was _really_ mean during the Chojin Olympics, like he told you to _kill_ Ilioukhine and everything, but now it’s like . . . I don’t know . . . like he’s being all nice and stuff. I know he’s a good guy and all, and I guess you are, too, but you both acted like you hated us and how can we trust you?”

“You trust no one, for a start,” said Kevin. “You also must learn to separate your professional life from your personal life, as what happens in the ring is a battle for life between two enemies, and – outside that ring – we are merely two colleagues enjoying a meal.”

“You expect me to forget all the bad things?”

“I expect you to believe that I’ve grown since then. I shook your hand after my victory, I fought with you against Asuraman, and I like to think I’ve proven my worth, but here _you_ are talking about Nikolai in the third-person and making insinuations about our characters. If you must know, I’m not exactly here by choice either. This isn’t my idea of fun.”

A groan fell from Mantaro. The waiter wandered across the room, where he stopped before their table with pen in hand, and – as his eyes moved from face to face – he attempted in broken English to ask for their orders. A long pause fell. Kevin and Mantaro locked gazes, as they attempted to outwait one another. Eventually, Kevin spoke. He complimented the man’s English in fluent Japanese, before he twirled a hand in a casual manner and pointed towards each of them except for Mantaro. Mantaro hissed through clenched teeth.

“Three glasses of white wine,” said Kevin. “Oh, and one milk.”

The waiter nodded and darted away, leaving them back in awkward silence. Jacqueline made an odd attempt to compliment the restaurant décor, while she swirled her glass of water in hand, and Warsman chuckled at nothing in particular, while he gazed at the distance. The waiter returned quickly with their drinks, but visibly flinched and paused before he placed the milk in front of Mantaro, and – looking between them, as if to make certain – soon dashed away again with head hung low. Mantaro bit into his lip and tasted iron. He asked:

“Why did you order me _milk_?”

“The drinking age in Japan is twenty,” said Kevin. “I couldn’t possibly allow myself to be blamed for corrupting the youth, especially a youth as childish as you. Anyway, you can insult me all you like, but I won’t have you insult Nikolai. Don’t cross that line.”

“I didn’t insult him, I just said I don’t trust him!”

“Hmm? You don’t trust the man that defended your mother from an attack? You don’t trust the man that slept in a waiting room all night when Kid’s mother was injured? You don’t trust the man that _died_ to help your father in battle? My, it makes me wonder what one needs to do to earn your trust. Is it merely to have big breasts and long hair?”

Mantaro gritted his teeth until a sharp pain ran through his jawbone. A low cough came from Jacqueline, as she awkwardly crossed her legs and pulled her dress tight about her cleavage, and Warsman – pinching the bridge of where his nose should be – closed his eyes and audibly counted to ten with a low voice reverberating about their table. The milk was petty revenge for expressing a genuine concern, and Mantaro wrapped his hands around the cold glass, while condensation collected about his callused knuckles. Jacqueline asked:

“Are you two done bickering?”

“I would also advise for some mutual respect,” added Warsman.

“Fine, I’m sorry,” muttered Mantaro. “I’ll just sit here and drink my milk.”

“Like a good little boy,” chirped Kevin.

Warsman turned his head. He stared without blinking at Kevin, who raised his hands in mock surrender and sat back with legs spread, and soon Kevin dropped his arms onto his thighs, as he leaned forward and stared at Mantaro beyond the black mesh of his mask. Warsman slowly faced forward, before he sipped at his wine. He pulled a face. It was almost imperceptible, but Mantaro barely repressed a smirk at the realisation that Kevin had only made the order to make a point, and clearly Warsman was not impressed.

Mantaro sat up straight, with a rolling of his shoulders and crick of his neck. He laughed behind closed lips, while Kevin quirked his head to watch him, and reached for a red napkin and a green straw from his glass of milk. A few tweaks and twists were all it took to create an origami rose, as he turned to Jacqueline with the ‘stem’ in hand. He presented it to her with a flourish, before she took it gently in hand with tears brewing behind green eyes.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” said Jacqueline.

“It’s nowhere near as beautiful as you.” Mantaro blushed. “I just wish that I could buy you all the roses in the galaxy, because you deserve something to brighten up your world . . . just the way you brighten up mine. I love you so much. I – I’ll always love you.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” mumbled Kevin.

“S-Shut up, Mask! Just because you haven’t got a romantic soul!”

A low hiss tumbled from behind Kevin’s mask. He lowered his head, until dark shadows fell about the cold steel, and he leaned forward with arms rested on the table, while Mantaro stared him down and leaned forward in turn. Kevin scoffed and clicked his fingers, as a waiter raced over and bowed low at their table. A few monetary notes were slipped in his pocket, without any subtlety and with a great deal of pomp, and Kevin followed by patting the pocket with a smile that could practically be felt through the inch of metal. Kevin asked:

“Could you find some _balalaika_ music, my good man?”

“S-Sir? We could maybe download some –”

“It’s my partner’s favourite instrument. I would most appreciate it.”

The waiter nodded and ran towards the stereo. A few wires attached the system to a laptop, which he scrolled through at a fast pace, and soon the strained and uncomfortable sound of a string instrument echoed through the restaurant. Mantaro growled and spun around to face Jacqueline, as he took her hand and gently brought it to his lips. A slow and lingering kiss was placed to the soft skin, before he pulled away with a staggered sigh.

“The candlelight makes your eyes sparkle,” whispered Mantaro.

Kevin huffed and threw an arm around Warsman, before visibly pulling him until a robotic head rested on a muscled shoulder, and yet Warsman bore the expression of one humouring another, as he stared expressionlessly ahead with an unimpressed disinterest. Mantaro glared and placed kisses along Jacqueline’s wrist and arm, while strained and incorrect words of French poured from his lips. Kevin scoffed and kissed at Warsman’s head.  

“Your smile could light up a room,” choked Kevin.

Mantaro laughed. It was all he could do not to break down in hysterics, even with his lips pressed against Jacqueline’s shoulder, as Warsman looked so uncomfortable and Kevin spoke in such a stilted and strained voice. Kevin was a man not used to expressing emotion. A hiss of breath was the only sound from Kevin, but enough to inspire Mantaro to raise a hand and call over the violinist, as he asked for something ‘as beautiful as my love’.

The violinist awkwardly played, while Kevin and Mantaro exchanged low and hissed insults over the table, but soon the bitter taunts stopped. Kevin dropped a hand onto Warsman’s thigh. Mantaro countered with soft fingers stroking Jacqueline’s arm. A hand appeared on a black shoulder, which squeezed and teased . . . lips nibbled on a pale earlobe . . . the violinist fled with muttered apologies. Kevin growled and slowly slid his hand up Warsman’s thigh, with long and pressured strokes. Mantaro worked his hand low down Jacqueline’s shoulder.

“Do not dare to move your hand higher,” warned Warsman.

“Or any lower,” barked Jacqueline. “I mean it!”

They both jerked away in unison. Warsman and Jacqueline both angled their bodies away, with arms crossed and equal in their embarrassed blushes, but – with a scowl and a shake of the head – Mantaro slammed his hands onto the table. He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes into dark slits. Kevin leaned in turn with a loud ‘ha’. They were an inch apart, with heavy panted breaths and all else lost in the heat of their frustrations, and Mantaro clenched his fists until veins bulged on his arms, while his vision blurred. Kevin spat:

“I beat you before, you idiot prince!”

“Yeah, in the ring, but not in matters of the heart!”

“Oh, is that right?” Kevin scoffed. “Very well, then – oh – I think I’ll plan a spontaneous weekend away in Paris. We can see all the sights and climb the tower and feed each other food and – and – and whatever it is people do in those godforsaken tourist traps!”

“T-That’s not fair! I don’t have that kind of allowance!” Mantaro pouted. “Okay, fine, then we’ll do a weekend together in bed . . . we’ll watch romantic movies, eat popcorn, snuggle up underneath a thick blanket -! It’ll be nice and cosy, like a world of our own, and we’ll laugh and cry and bond and make love and all the things you’re too stuffy to do!”

“W-Well, we’ll go to a five-star restaurant, where I’ll hire a band to serenade Nikolai, and we’ll sit on the rooftop terrace and watch the stars as the sun sets! I’ll hold him in my arms, while we talk about our dreams and ambitions and plan a world tour.”

“Yeah, well . . . well . . . well . . . I’ll invite Jacqueline to state events!”

“I’ll invite Nikolai to family dinners to meet my parents!”

“Your parents disowned you, that doesn’t count!”

Kevin blanched. He pulled back and shoulders slumped. A few long seconds passed, as his lowered his head and choked sounds escaped his throat, and his hand . . . trembling and pale . . . touched at his mask over the mouth area. Mantaro swallowed hard. He opened his mouth to apologise, with hand already outstretched, before Kevin laughed and tossed his glass of water into Mantaro’s face. The guilt soon fled and rage reappeared, as Kevin placed his hands on his hips and leaned back towards him with his voice almost too low to be heard.  

“I’ll – I’ll call a press conference,” said Kevin. “I’ll come out publicly.”

“I’ll . . . do the same! I’ll announce Jacqueline as future queen.”

“Well, I’ll – ah – propose! We’ll get married.”

“Not if we get married first, jerk!”

They spun around. Mantaro dropped to one knee, as he quickly wiped the water from his mask, and Kevin slammed a foot onto his chair, as he took an opposite stance with his body towering over his partner in an act of attractive dominance. Kevin took the napkin ring in one hand. Mantaro let loose a high-pitched cry, as he copied the action and snatched at the napkin ring in turn, and both thrust their hands forth at the exact same moment and called out:

_“Nikolai, would you do me the honour of –”_

_“Jacqui, do you want to maybe get –”_

They were gone. Mantaro rapidly blinked, as he looked from empty seat to empty seat. He was already sliding back into his chair, when he caught sight of Jacqueline standing on the dance-floor far on the other side of the restaurant, and there – with a smile – the violinist played a beautiful and classical song with a steady beat. Warsman stood to the side, until she coaxed him into an awkward waltz. He kept his head low and moved slow.

Mantaro pouted and crossed his arms. He scowled and sat cross-legged on his chair, while Kevin slid opposite him with his head held in a resigned hand, and the silence between them was broken only by Jacqueline’s laughter and Warsman’s insecure apologies. They said nothing, even as Mantaro tapped a cold beat – almost like a metronome – against the wood o the table with a firm stab of his fingertips. Kevin groaned and threw back his head, as he stared at the ceiling and kicked at the floor with hard and fast jerks of his foot.

“This is your fault,” spat Kevin. “I was hoping for an early night tonight.”

“Yeah, thanks to _you_ , I bet Jacqui won’t be in the mood, either.”

They looked upward. The matching expressions brought a smile to both sets of cheeks, as Mantaro shook his head and slumped back in his chair. Kevin laughed and brought his wine to his lips, albeit awkwardly with the rim pushed beneath his mask, and Mantaro laughed with a long and heavy sound as he scratched at his neck. The menus stood tall between them on the table, while their partners danced away from the drama, and Kevin – with a sigh – threw his hand across the table, which Mantaro shook with a grin. Kevin asked:

“Well, fancy some snacks to tie us over?”

“Sure.” Mantaro smiled. “Why not?”


End file.
